Page 85 of Galen
Galen
Alastair sat in his study, watching the flames consume the logs in the fireplace. June had brought warmer weather, though our home by the sea always kept a slight chill no matter the time of year.
The sun was setting outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the dark orange glow of fading daylight highlighting the cherrywood desk covered in scattered papers. As the avatar of Pride, he kept a pristine workspace. His study was always clean. Organized.
But not anymore.
The room reflected the chaos of his mood. The once uniform framed photos on the wall hung crooked, and some lay broken on the floor. Books had been knocked off the shelves. The tea set he adored had been smashed, the shards of broken china littering the rug now stained with Earl Grey tea.
As for Alastair, he hardly looked like himself. He hadn’t shaved in over a week, his pale blond hair was unkempt, and his shirt was wrinkled. Joseph’s death had hit him harder than any other, and I feared he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of his grief.
“You can’t keep living like this, brother,” I said from the doorway.
“Living?” Alastair’s icy blue eyes shifted to me. “Is that what I’m doing? I feel like I’m merely existing. Holding on by a single thread that’s fraying more and more as days pass.” He returned his gaze to the fire. “I wonder what will happen once that thread finally snaps.”
“It won’t.” I stepped into the study and sat in the cushioned chair beside him. “Because you’re too strong to be broken, Pride. Don’t forget who you are.”
“Who I am…” He laughed dryly. “And who is that, Galen? I used to feel so powerful. But where was my power when Joseph needed me? I couldn’t heal him.” His chin trembled. “I couldn’t save him.”
“You can’t save everyone,” I said, my voice softer than usual. I had never seen Alastair so fragile, like he would shatter into pieces like the broken tea set on the rug. “And the fact that you think you can is your Pride talking.”
“Part of me regrets not performing the binding ritual on him all those years ago,” Alastair said. “If I had, he would’ve never gotten sick. He would still be beside me.”
“Or he could’ve been killed by any number of things, killing you in the process.”
He looked at me. “Maybe it would’ve been for the best. At least then I wouldn’t have had to know what it’s like to live without him.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. Remember our fallen brother? I can still see the pain in Kallias’ eyes as he looked at Elasus’ body. But then his eyes closed, and a soft smile touched his lips moments before he, too, died. Do you remember?”
I nodded.
“He was relieved,” Alastair said, voice cracking. “Better to join his lover in death than know a day without him.”
“Joseph wouldn’t want you to die. He’d want you to keep fighting.”
“He didn’t know me,” Alastair whispered. “I held his hand in that hospital room, and he stared at me like I was a stranger. He started having trouble breathing, and the nurses rushed in. It all happened so damn fast. I felt his soul leave, Galen. I felt him leave me.”
I nearly said that Joseph had left him long ago. He hadn’t been himself in years. But my words would be like salt on an open wound. There was no need to hurt him more than he already was.
“Interesting what you’ve done with the place,” I said, glancing at the room he’d destroyed in his heartache.
Alastair released a chuckle, albeit small and ringing with sadness, and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m a mess. I know.”
I stood from the chair and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. You need to leave this room. Take a long, hot bath, and then join us for dinner. Raiden’s making chicken stir-fry.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Too bad,” I snapped, losing some of my patience. “You can either sit in this room and mope for all eternity, or you can pick your ass up and begin to move on. You have people who care about you. People who rely on you. I’m not saying you can’t mourn your loss, but you can’t let it drown you.”
“Is that what you’ll do when Simon dies one day?” Alastair asked, rising to his feet. “Go on living like usual? I know I’ve kept to myself, but I’m not a fool. You and the human have grown closer. He wears your mark again.”
Trying to ignore the sudden twinge in my heart, I turned away from him and walked toward the doorway. “I expect you to be at the dinner table at six. If you’re still in this room, I swear I’ll drag your ass out of it.”
“You can’t give me orders, Wrath.” Alastair’s tone, although angry, held more life than I’d heard since the night Joseph died. If it meant making him angry for him to wake his ass up, so be it.
“Then step up and be our leader,” I said, my angry tone matching his. “Because in case you’ve forgotten, a war is on the horizon, and we’re the only ones standing between demons and the humans they will destroy.”
